


Artemis Catreri

by Artemis Entreri (ArtemisEntreri), Jarlaxle



Series: CATastrophe [1]
Category: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: Cats, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, M/M, RP, magic anon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-04-06 11:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19061434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisEntreri/pseuds/Artemis%20Entreri, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarlaxle/pseuds/Jarlaxle
Summary: “You are seriously claiming to be unfamiliar with the concept of a combat erection?” the assassin hisses through clenched teeth, his face flushing with heat from what he hopes is rage.“Is that what you humans call it these days?”------------------------------Unknown magic turns Entreri into a cat, forcing the poor assassin to suffer many indignities, including but not limited to being assaulted by catnip, a child's attempt to feed him, and another cat attempting to mate with him, before finally landing in the hands of Jarlaxle.





	1. Mouser

**Author's Note:**

> [[ Cross-posted from my Artemis Entreri roleplay blog on Tumblr, by request of those who left the platform but still wishing to access these writings.
> 
> This is a direct copy & paste from an RP thread, so there will be a lot of head jumping back and forth between Artemis and Jarlaxle. I'll use line breaks to indicate the perspective jumps. Some "chapters" should contain images. If for some reason the image hosting fails and they no longer show up, making the text-only responses a bit nonsensical, please let me know. ]]

The sound of tiny feet pitter-pattering across the wooden floor stirs Entreri from his slumber. Before he fully regains his cognizance, an instinctive urge within him calls to his mind’s eye an image of a small creature scurrying through the dark, a creature that he feels compelled to pounce upon.

The ridiculousness of the notion does not escape the assassin’s logic, and he quickly shakes away the compulsion, but sadly, not quickly enough to avoid becoming too awake to go back to sleep immediately. He nonchalantly casts a glance at the source of the disturbance, perceiving a mouse as he had suspected, and finds that it takes a surprising amount of effort to tear his gaze away from it.  _I have been working too hard_ , he reasons and opens his mouth wide for a big yawn.

“MRRRRROOOOOEWWWWWWWRRR”

The startled Entreri snaps his mouth shut as his eyes dart around in search of the source of the strange noise. It emanated from very close to him, but his acute senses had not warned him of any intruders. Fully alert now, he immediately notes that something is wrong with his darkvision. While he could see just as well, perhaps even a little better, in the blackness of night, something about his perception just seems… different. He cautiously begins to reach for his weapons belt, only to find that what should have been within his grasp is very much not. Moreover, there is something terribly wrong with his arm. And not just that one arm, but both of his arms, his torso, his body, his legs and his tail. 

His tail?

Resting on his haunches, Entreri holds up both of his “hands” before his face. For many heartbeats he sits perfectly still in that position, his mind struggling to reconcile what has become of him. 


	2. Irresistible

A strangely tantalizing scent draws Entreri’s attention. Warily, he pads over to a pile of what looks like dried pieces of leaves of some sort. After several heartbeats of squinting at the pile, he realizes with no small amount of frustration that he discerns nothing new about the pile that he did not observe initially. He reaches out to feel the substance, but thanks to his lack of fingers, he succeeds in only batting aside a portion of the pile. 

Against his better judgment, Entreri leans forward ever so slightly to sniff the unknown substance. Suddenly, his vision is assaulted with a flood of light as his pupils dilate, and a strange hotness somewhat reminiscent of an itch spreads throughout his face, emanating from the tip of his nose. As his human instincts warn him of danger and scream for him to remove himself from the premises, he feels his body go slack against his will and he tumbles into the pile, scattering bits of the dried material all about and into the air. _Nine Hells, I am going to die_ , he tells himself, but he finds that he does not feel all that bad about the realization. Strangely, if anything, he feels quite good, amazingly good actually, the happiness and warmth flowing through him unlike anything that he has ever experienced before. As his feline body joyfully flails and rolls about in the scattered pile of strange dried leaves, the former human assassin cheerfully mourns his inevitable demise.


	3. Pointer

Entreri pointedly ignores you, however his feline eyes do dart over to fixate upon the twitching red dot more than a few times.


	4. Fairy Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[ Lumi is an OC that belongs to one of my writing partners/friends. ]]

> "Kitty?" That flower gifting little girl was back, but Lumi carefully crouched down slowly nearly the catsassin and smiled, holding out her hand carefully.

Entreri feels as though he would enjoy throwing his head back and yowling. However, the disciplined assassin keeps his emotions in check. A subconscious flick of his tail is the only indication of his frustration.  _Not the little faerie-child now too,_  he laments as he holds very still. He hopes that she will content herself with petting him and then moving on.

> “I’m gonna pet you now. Pretty please don’t scratch me, kitty,” Lumi slowly pet Entreri’s fur, giving him little scratches behind his ear as she hummed happily for the time being.
> 
> “Such a pretty kitty. Here, a little snack,” she giggled and scooted away after petting the feline assassin, only to leave a few small grilled fish that was wrapped in paper she procured from the bag on her shoulders.

Entreri slowly closes his eyes and endures the treatment. Had he not been fuming, he might have noticed that Lumi’s petting is actually quite pleasant. However, never having been one to enjoy being touched, it takes all of his concentration to hold perfectly still and not heed his instinctive urge to rake at the faerie. 

He is glad when it is all over. He spends a few heartbeats watching Lumi’s retreating form, then looks down at the gift she left behind for him.  _A little snack for a pretty kitty,_  he muses bitterly,  _I do believe that I’ve finally found my life’s calling._  He would have snorted if he could, but cats cannot snort, so Entreri just sighs to himself and pads away.


	5. Amorous Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [[ Sand is an elf NPC from Neverwinter Nights 2 who is one of the companions that that PC can choose to accompany them. He is a fastidious wizard with a dry wit, an acute sense of smell, and a cat familiar named Jaral. 
> 
> His RPer maintained a blog that interacted with many others but is no longer active. ]]

An extremely large black cat enters the shop. It appears to be covered in little bits of dried leaves of some sort.

> Sand did not like strays coming to visit his shop. They were dirty, territorial things, and it generally made his life a little more difficult. But there was something particularly odd about this one…  _yes_ , past the layers of stench - catnip, fish, whatever the hells  _that_  is… there was a remotely  _human_  scent to him.
> 
> “And what are  _you_  here for?” Sand addressed the cat, just like how he might address Jaral. No baby talking. Jaral found that demeaning, so it was a habit he had formed when talking to felinekind. “I hope wherever your owner is, he or she is searching for you.” Sand hoped that was behind the human scent. If not, he could be terribly wrong and be unknowingly speaking to a shifter.

Entreri stares up unblinkingly at Sand. Enough of his wits have returned for him to feel sound of mind, however the euphoric effects of rolling around in the pile of strange dried leaves still affect his mood more than a small measure. As such, he is unusually happy to see the small wizard, and he snickers internally at the fact that he does not have to look up very far to meet the elf’s eyes. 

Keeping his gaze glued to Sand’s eyes, the assassin purposefully pads around the wizard, then jumps on top of his counter.

> Sand immediately plucks the cat off the counter. He turns the stray to face it, then informed him, “ _No_. You shall  _not_  tread your filthy paws on my clean counter!” He then unceremoniously plopped him back down on the floor. “You may walk across this space to your overlarge catty heart’s desire, but gods help you if you soil my counter.”

Entreri stares unblinkingly at Sand for many long breaths, his golden feline eyes aglow with preternatural intellect.  _Very well wizard, I shall stay off of your counter,_  he thinks with an internal smirk. He slowly allows his gaze to drop down along the elf’s body, sizing him up anew. After his assessments are complete, he returns his stare upwards, and holds it there for many more heartbeats.

Then, suddenly, he springs upwards, his powerful leg muscles boosting him vertically more times his own height than he would have been able to jump in his normal form. His aim is to land on the wizard’s shoulder, or at the least, get a good hold against his robes on his chest. Unfortunately, the effects of the catnip still linger, and he has not quite mastered his transformed body yet…

> The wizard squeaked in surprise as the cat bounded upwards - way too far - and seized him around the face instead. He stumbled and his arms flailed for a small moment before he toppled over onto his back, the cat still attached to his face.
> 
> “Oh, gods…!” came Sand’s exasperated cry through fluffy kitty fur. His legs kicked while he reached up to try to pry the shifted Entreri loose.

Sand’s efforts to pry Entreri off gives the assassin an unexpected and, strangely, much-appreciated understanding of why cats tend to hold on with renewed vigor to something when an outside force attempts to remove them from it. The transformed man is troubled by his positive reaction to this latest piece of useless knowledge. He spends his next moments thinking through various challenging mental exercises that he has designed explicitly for situations in which he is in danger of losing grasp of his own mind. Although he is eventually able to reassure himself about the soundness of his human psyche, Entreri cannot help but resent what being in a cat’s body is doing to his instincts.

Meanwhile, during the time that the assassin contemplates his mental state, his body continues to writhe of its own accord. His forepaws entangle themselves in Sand’s hair while his hind claws dig into the fabric of the wizard’s robes to secure as firm a grip as possible. 

> Not too long after did Jaral come to the rescue. He padded softly down the stairs, tail formed in the shape of a question mark. He craned his neck out and sniffed the air, finding there was another cat within his shop. Sand smelled, past the cat clawing at his hair and robes, the familiar scent of Jaral.
> 
> Oh, Mystra. It would have been just wonderful if his familiar chose now to become territorial.
> 
> But judging by the low trilling meow coming from him that could not have been a more different noise coming from the orange cat,  _territory_  was not on his mind. He began to trot closer.
> 
> “Oh for the love of the gods!” snarled the thoroughly fed up wizard.

His ears perking subconsciously at Jaral’s meow, Entreri untangles himself enough to visually verify the presence of the small orange cat. With no knowledge of the meaning behind different feline behaviors, the assassin reasons that the wizard’s familiar must have taken offense to his master being assaulted by another cat. Entreri has not acclimated to his transformed body enough to feel overly confident in his combat prowess. While he outweighs Jaral significantly, he personally knows how little size advantages matter when confronted against superior skills. 

Cautiously, Entreri extracts his forepaws from Sand’s hair and releases his clawed grip on Sand’s robes. He turns to lock stares with the approaching orange cat, ready to begin circling and improvising from there.

> Jaral continued to vocalize, rubbing his cheek against various surfaces, trilling the tone of the meows to sound more like a trill. When at last he got close enough, he began to purr loudly, attempting to come over to lick Artemis.
> 
> Sand knew all too well that this overlarge black cat had no interest in mating with his Jaral. In fact, by the circling of the larger black cat, his intentions were not so amorous. So he did what he could to protect one of his best friends. The moon elf sprang to his feet, took a vase of flowers off of the counter and evicted the plants, and splashed the water within the container onto the black cat nearly all at once, all the while remaining fully aware that this may return the attention back onto himself.
> 
> Where was a potion of barkskin when he needed one? There would not be enough time to cast the spell!

The small orange cat’s behavior strikes Entreri as very strange.  _He would fit right in at a tavern full of intoxicated and amorous fools_ , the transformed man muses, and he wonders if the bits of dried leaves still clinging to his black coat are responsible for Jaral’s odd reaction. The assassin rigidly leans his head away from the other cat’s affectionate overtures, uncertain about what to make of the situation. 

Before he can think more on the matter however, Entreri finds himself drenched with cold water. The assault of sudden wetness causes him to jump straight up into the air. In that heartbeat in which he is airborne, he does not know why he reacted in such a way any more than he understands how he recognized that the water smells of plant stalks. Before his four paws even make contact with the floor again are they vigorously paddling, allowing him to take off as soon as he touches down. While the assassin has never cared for the sensation of drenched clothes clinging to his body, it has never offended him more than to perhaps warrant a stray disgruntled thought. However, his current situation feels countless times worse than even his longest session of stalking through a torrential downpour. 

He reasons that his body’s extreme reaction is likely due to an instinctive effort to attempt to literally jump out of wet fur. Although he knows that such an effort is futile, he allows himself his rampage when he discerns Sand holding an empty vase, beads of moisture still slowly rolling down its curves. Purposely, he veers himself towards the wizard’s counter and jumps on top of it again, pausing there to vigorously shake himself. Then, he streaks to the door and darts outside, nearly plowing through an unfortunate customer who is just entering the shop and coincidentally providing the means for his egress.

> The large black cat finally left. The elven wizard sighed with relief and cast prestidigitation on the counter and floor as the thoroughly bewildered customer continued to walk inside of the shop, and he refilled the vase and placed the flowers back within it.
> 
> Jaral looked up at Sand, decidedly mournful. “No,” the moon elf told Jaral sternly. “You really did not want that one. There was something not right about him - besides, he would have torn your throat out if you even  _tried_ to mate with him.”
> 
> Snootily, the orange feline trotted away, nose in the air, not unlike his master.


	6. Mercenary

> "Why, hello there! Aren't you a handsome feline?" Jarlaxle crouches and scoops up the large black cat, promptly snuggling it close to him. The magic in his eyepatch allows him to tell that it's actually Entreri, however he's not about to let the assassin know that without having a bit of fun first.

Entreri squirms and struggles against the snuggle, but for all of his efforts, he cannot free himself from the drow’s grasp. The assassin’s displeasure is vocalized through a long hiss, in which he conveys a message that he is certain that the crafty mercenary will understand, “Jarlaxle. Jarlaxle! This is not amusing. Release me!”

> Jarlaxle grins, indeed understanding Entreri’s protests. Not letting that stop him from pretending that he doesn’t, the mercenary continues to snuggle the cat. “Awww, what’s wrong, my sweet fluffy kitten? Is my cuddly ball of fluff displeased to have his magnificence overshadowed by my beauty? Worry not, my adorable friend, for the two of us can be exquisite together!” He coos and presses a kiss into the top of the cat’s head while petting him with exaggerated motions.
> 
> Securing his hands firmly around the cat’s body and holding his paws in place with his thumbs and index fingers, the drow dangles the cat before his face and rocks him back and forth. “Soft kitty, warm kitty, big ball of fur. Happy kitty, sleepy kitty, purr purr purr!” Jarlaxle singsongs, then laughs at the grumpy expression on cat Entreri’s face.

Despite floundering against Jarlaxle with all of his strength, Entreri cannot break free of the deceptively strong drow’s hold. He hisses with disgust when the mercenary kisses him, expressing his distaste for how casually Jarlaxle would kiss a dirty animal and his anger that Jarlaxle would dare to so demean him. The assassin experiences his first and only instance of appreciation for his thick coat of fur, for it muffles the feeling of Jarlaxle’s lips on his head and Jarlaxle’s hand gliding unobstructed over and over along his body. If nothing else, his decreased sensations feel like a minor victory over the mercenary. Entreri wishes that he could will all of the fur on the top of his head to fall off, so that it may choke the thrice-cursed drow to death.

Just when he believes that the mercenary could not humiliate him further, the man-turned-cat finds his forepaws locked in place extending before himself while the rest of his body dangles freely. He glares hatefully at the drow as his lower body is forced to swing from side to side in time with the melody. Entreri pulls back his lips to bare his sharp teeth, his maw quivering as he snarls. ”I will end you,” the assassin promises while staring frigidly at Jarlaxle.

> Jarlaxle’s smile would’ve widened more if he wasn’t already grinning from ear to ear. He brings the cat close to touch noses with him while making sure that his claws are secured and not likely to scratch him or his fine clothing. “Ahh, yes, my handsome furry friend, I do adore you so!” The mercenary coos and shifts the feline into his arms, cradling him like a newborn. He scratches the cat’s stomach and remarks with a playful glint in his ruby eyes, “I think that I shall call you Artemis, for you are as dark and handsome as he, and oh do you stare at me so frigidly!”

Entreri growls and futilely tries to rake Jarlaxle as the mercenary toys with him. His ears are pressed flat to his head and his lips drawn back to display a gleaming mawful of sharp teeth as he hisses while the drow continues to tease him. The humiliation and anger reach such dizzying levels that the expletives in his thoughts dissolve into incoherent feline noises even in his head.

Before he loses himself completely in primal rage however, Jarlaxle’s words slice through the red-hot haze and freezes his mind for a few heartbeats. Entreri lies stock-still, silent mouth still agape, as the revelation slowly sinks in.

Then, slowly, he clamps his jaw shut and stares icily at the drow. “You son of a spider-kissing whore,” he imparts through a low growl, “You knew all along!” With a howl, the assassin explodes into motion, leaping out of the mercenary’s hands and up to slam his underside against the drow’s face. With dark delight he rakes his claws against the coal-black skin atop the bald head as his hind claws ravage about in search of purchase on Jarlaxle’s bare neck or fine clothing. Abandoning himself to animalistic anger, Entreri sinks his teeth into Jarlaxle’s flesh, of what part specifically, he cares not a damn. Whether he tears a chunk out of the thrice-cursed drow’s brow or cheek, the sensation would be equally satisfying to him. So engrossed is he that he does not realize that cats, even extraordinarily big cats, are simply not built to literally tear the face from someone with their teeth alone, especially not magically protected someones. 

> The drow laughs heartily at the human’s shocked reaction. Grinning cheekily, he retorts, “Why, Artemis, that’s one of the nicest things that anybody’s ever said about my mother!” Barely before he finishes his exclamation does he get a face full of black fur and feels the sting of cat claws scratching up his scalp.
> 
> “Ouch! Bad kitty!” Jarlaxle fumbles blindly to get ahold of the cat. “Ow! Ow ow ow! Hey!! Stop that!” Despite his admonishing tone, the mercenary is much too amused by the entire spectacle. In fact, he is so busy clutching at his aching sides that he can’t spare a hand to more effectively ward himself. Thus, cries of pain are interspersed between his chortles, but still he can’t stop himself from further taunting Entreri. “You naughty kitty! No tuna for you later!” Thin red crisscrossing lines appear on his neck, but the pain is minor compared to the ache that has spread from his sides to his stomach. “By the gods, Artemis, spare me! I am going to laugh myself to death!!!”
> 
> “YEOWCH!” He screams when the assassin bites him squarely above the eye. Grabbing ahold of Entreri’s tail, Jarlaxle pulls down on it. “Now that’s going a bit too far, my friend!”

Jarlaxle’s tug on an extension of Entreri’s body that the transformed man is not accustomed to possessing has an effect not unlike a spell of petrification on the assassin. All four legs stiffen involuntarily, causing Entreri tumble away from the mercenary’s head, all the while resenting that only his eyes still heed his bidding. He is in the process of channeling his anger and frustration through that last means accessible to him when they too rebel against his charge. Or, rather, they seem to do so, for his visual perspective changes wildly. Dizzily, he watches the world narrow while colors increase in vividness.

The transformation completes itself in the span of less than a heartbeat, but it takes a few more for Entreri to recover. “What?” he croaks, then starts at his vocalization. As the astonished man swallows and runs a tongue over his dry lips, he marvels at how much he has missed the sound of his own voice. The revelation causes him to scoff, as such a sentiment is one more befitting of Jarlaxle.

At the thought of the drow mercenary, the assassin becomes acutely aware of the warmness upon which he is sitting. He only vaguely, barely more than subconsciously, registers the pleasant feeling of fine silky fabrics against his bare skin. His eyes narrowing to dangerous slits, Entreri glares down frigidly at his former tormentor, slowly and ominously folding his arms before his chest.

> Jarlaxle flashes his most charming smile and holds up his hands in a placating gesture. Despite his precarious situation, he can’t help but remark, “Now, now, my friend, no need to get so angry. Here, I take back what I said about the tuna. You may even have the head, I’ve heard that it’s a kitty’s favorite part!” His entire face quivers as he fights the urge not to burst into laughter again.

Entreri returns Jarlaxle’s warm smile with an icy and mirthless smirk. Silent stillness hangs about the two as steely gray eyes lock ruby orbs for countless heartbeats. Then, the tranquil spell is suddenly shattered as the assassin shoots out one hand to ram against the drow’s deceptively delicate-looking throat, while the other throws a well-aimed punch at the center of that smug ebony countenance.

> Jarlaxle’s laughter is choked off with a sharp gasp as Entreri grabs his throat, and he manages to turn his head so that the assassin’s fist connects with his cheek instead of his nose. Bright spots explode in his vision at the blow. 
> 
> “Ouch! That was uncalled for!!” Despite his protest, his humor only fades slightly, even though his cheek stings from the punch.

Entreri sneers down at Jarlaxle. “Oh no, you are quite correct. That was me going easy on you. You deserve  _much_  more.” He stares hard into the drow’s red eyes, his gaze as frigid as a deepwinter gale.

> Jarlaxle smiles easily back up at Entreri, then allows his gaze to drop to the human’s well muscled chest. Ruby eyes follow the sculpted abdomen downwards, and he can’t help but note that it’s almost as exquisite as his own. He raises a white eyebrow as his gaze drops even lower, then moves back up to meet the assassin’s stare again. Grinning slyly, he says, “My  _abbil_ , you didn’t have to go through the trouble of getting turned into a cat just so that you could proposition me!”

Entreri’s eyes narrow at Jarlaxle’s lackadaisical attitude. “What are you…” he begins, but trails off as his eyes unwittingly follow the path that the mercenary’s had. They widen in surprise upon glimpsing what the drow had discovered and snaps back to lock the ruby gaze. “You are seriously claiming to be unfamiliar with the concept of a combat erection?” the assassin hisses through clenched teeth, his face flushing with heat from what he hopes is rage.

> Of course he’d heard of the phenomenon, experienced it countless times himself! But he certainly isn’t about to let the assassin off so easily! Still wearing his smug, sly grin, Jarlaxle replies in an innocent tone, “Is that what you humans call it these days?”

Entreri draws his lips back in a snarl. “I care not what phrase you  _ilythiiri_ ascribe to it, but do not pretend that you know not of what I am speaking of. I have personally witnessed that your kind are just as prone to it as are males of any race,” he retorts, emphasizing the dark elves’ term for themselves with perfect pronunciation to accentuate his point.

> “Oh? Is that so? You’ve  _personally witnessed_  my brethren exhibit this phenomenon?” Jarlaxle continues to grin knowingly.

His patience waning, Entreri snaps, "Yes!” Then, a recollection comes to him, and he accuses, “You mendacious bastard! I have seen you experience it also! Do not deny it!”

> Jarlaxle holds up both hands to admit that he’s been found out. However, his grin doesn’t fade. “You have  _seen_  it, have you?” 

A muscle twitches near the assassin’s eye, his irritation complete. “That is what I just said,” he hisses at the most irksome drow.

> Jarlaxle’s grin widens. With a bats of his white eyelashes and waggles of his white eyebrows, he replies sweetly, “Why, my  _abbil_ , I-I never knew that you were paying such rapt attention!” He squirms ever so slightly to put on a show of shyness, during which he ensures the fine material of his trousers brushes against the assassin’s skin with slow deliberation.

Comprehension dawns with a sharp intake of breath at the caress of the silken material and more color flushes Entreri’s cheeks, this time, he knows, definitely not from anger. Scowling deeply, the assassin suppresses the urge to throw another punch at the smug mercenary’s face. He does not wish to draw any further attention to the topic that they have been discussing, especially with the situation exacerbated now as it is by something other than the rush of adrenaline. 

Locking stares with Jarlaxle, Entreri slowly shifts off of the drow. Upon being fully clear of the mercenary’s body, he immediately bounds back a few paces, then swiftly turns to the task of pillaging Jarlaxle’s belongings for a spare set of clothing. Ruthlessly he shifts through seemingly endless piles of expensive pieces of attire. Just when he is beginning to think that the flamboyant drow does not own anything but the most showy articles ever made, he finally finds a plain white shirt and a pair of relatively nondescript black trousers. Due the Jarlaxle’s slenderer frame, the clothes are uncomfortably tight, even after he not-so-accidentally ripped the shirt while gruffly pulling it on.

He spares a moment to glare icily at Jarlaxle before striding over to a pair of the mercenary’s high boots and stepping into them. He has no idea about the size of the drow’s feet, but he doubts that it matters, for he knows Jarlaxle’s boots to be magical and attire of that nature tend to adjust themselves to their wearer’s dimensions. By magic or by chance, the boots fit him comfortably, and Entreri heads for the door.

> Jarlaxle watches Entreri with great amusement throughout the entire ordeal. He snickers quietly as the assassin rummages through his neatly folded clothes, allowing his friend that small bit of revenge for the torment that he’s just put him through. The drow can’t help but wince at the tearing sound coming from his shirt, but he supposes that he deserves that too. Genuine concern appears over his handsome features when the human starts to make off with his magical boots. 
> 
> “Artemis? You’ll return those, right?”

Entreri makes no indication of having heard Jarlaxle, however he does smirk upon noting the hint of distress in the drow’s voice. Instead of acknowledging the mercenary, the assassin contemplates what he will do with his new boots. They would certainly fetch a good price, however he has no need for more gold, and more importantly, he does not want them to somehow find their way back to their previous owner.  _Perhaps I shall string them up and use them as target practice_ , he ponders to himself, then nods with satisfaction at the idea. Smiling wistfully, he briskly exits and slams the door after him.

> Jarlaxle cringes at the loudness of the slamming door. He lets out a long sigh, then grins from ear to ear. 
> 
> He whistles a cheery tune as he sets about refolding his clothing. He could’ve summoned an underling to do the menial chore, but he figured that he owed his  _abbil_  this little bit of effort as a tithe for what he put him through. It was completely worth the price, though, and Jarlaxle would’ve smiled wider if he could’ve. 

**Author's Note:**

> [[ For more Artemis Entreri related art, writing, and other goodies, check out my blog: http://artemis-entreri.tumblr.com
> 
> Come hang out with other Entreri (& Jarlaxle) fans on Discord: https://discord.gg/CF5zBc7 ]]


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